


Curiosity leads to Truths

by LifeisIntriguing



Series: It leads to... [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeisIntriguing/pseuds/LifeisIntriguing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has received some books to help "quench curiosities" but what exactly does that mean? And is John about to discover more about himself? Or Sherlock? Also, Sherlock has 5 cases to solve, but one case is harder than others...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Books Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> I started this over a year ago on FF, I much prefer my later writing, but I still quite like it.

“Sherlock?” John called. No answer, typical, did that man need no sleep? He spotted a note on the mirror. “Out of milk. Used it to determine whether milk counteracts a mixture of acids and gunpowder. Unsuccessful. Shall buy new bowls and microwave while out. May be some time. Text me where you can buy microwaves. SH” John rolled his eyes glanced in the kitchen and started walking towards his coat. “Breakfast from a cafe again today” he muttered.

He had one arm in his coat when he spotted a packet of books on the desk; partially opened and hurriedly wrapped again. He was slowly picking up these deductions skills from Sherlock. Sherlock obviously didn’t want John to see what they were. He pulled off his coat and picked up the packet. There was a note attached. “Sherlock old fellow, hope these help to quench curiosities. JS” Now John was curious, it felt like a few books.

His pocket beeped “Is there such thing as a microwave shop? SH”. John sighed and replied “Try Argos or electrical store. JW” Sherlock was busy elsewhere that meant John was alone for a while yet. He opened the packet and stared. 4 very surprising books sat in his hand. “The Beauty and attraction of the female body.” But Sherlock said that wasn’t his area. “The Beauty and attraction of the male body.” That seemed more plausible for Sherlock but married to his work implied he was more asexual than anything. John looked confused and then looked at the other two books. He let out a surprised giggle. Two of the dirtiest books, with pictures, ever. These were infamous and ridiculously hard to get hold of. He knew, he had tried before going to war.

John sat down on the armchair facing away from the door and divided the books into two piles. Men and Women. Logical divide. The beauty and attraction books intrigued him, he reached for the female one and then stopped and picked up the male one. He was six pages in when it dawned on him he was reading the wrong book. Sherlock wasn’t home. He was still thinking about “Chapter One - The first impression of the attraction of men” and picked up “The Male Most Infamous” and started reading.

He had never read this kind of thing before, a dirty book and no women. He undid his shirt top button feeling a bit hot and flustered. He wasn’t used to these feelings coming from reading about men. He turned the page and stared at the picture slightly horrified. It was explicit, very explicit, but he could feel it making an impact on him. He tried to look away but couldn’t. It was sort of beautiful.

“Interesting” John slammed the book shut and tried to put in on top of the other male one.

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock smirked as he sat down. John didn’t move, he knew Sherlock had already deduced everything he needed to. He felt like a fox caught in headlights. Sherlock was still smirking.

“Well, I was right about that. Still only had the brother/sister thing wrong.”

John felt nervous. “What?”

“That part of your reason you joined the army was a subconscious yearning to be around men. It was also a desire to prove your masculinity and affirm your sexuality.”

“My what?” John hoped he had misheard.

“Your sexuality.”

“I am pretty confident I like the ladies Sherlock.”

“Tell me John. Does it not strike you strange that the book you picked up is the male one?”

John looked worried. “I just er, erm....” he blustered and blushed.

“John” Sherlock looked serious now, like a father explaining something important yet obvious. “Although undeniably the picking up of the male books could be associated with a desire to find the attractions and faults of the self, the fact that you stopped reading the attractions book.”

John started and opened his mouth to argue.

“The pages have clearly been turned John, but only the first 6, I believe.” John sat back and prepared himself for an uncomfortable few minutes. “This shows that you remembered I would be coming back. Now being someone who can deal with pain and lock away elements that are irrelevant.” John looked confused. “You, John. Due to your army days. Your mindset is fairly firmly fixed on the fact that you must only be attracted to the female sex. Now the fact in the subconscious inside shows an attraction to a man. I mean several facts about you point to over-masculinisation counteracting these feelings.” John stared. “Are you with me John?”

“You are calling me gay?”

“No, I am saying you have an attraction to the male sex. I believe, I understand this right. Sexuality is not a fixed thing. The human mind can find attraction in most things. For some they fail to acknowledge that this attraction is having a big impact on their everyday lives. Now the fact that your sister is gay may have prompted you into the mindset of fancying girls, especially if they are nice. Additionally you may not have wanted your parents to have two gay children, but I don’t think that is as relevant.”

John started to protest.

“John, I am not saying that you don’t have an attraction to women too. I am just saying you should free your mind slightly by understanding sexuality is fluid. Now if you accept this fact you might be able to acknowledge you have a certain attraction to men.”

“But I don’t!” he protested.

“John!”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Yes you do! I was observing your reaction to “The Male most infamous” you liked it!” Sherlock was more like a protesting teen now but John noticed a glint in his eye that he both recognised and didn’t. It was the glint of excitement at a new intriguing case. However, there was more this time, there was an eagerness to get in deep, completely unravel the roots. John started to get worried.

“Ok, so let’s say for now that you are right...”

“Of course I am right John!”

“Ok Sherlock. According to you I am bisexual?”

“I don’t like that term but yes.” He grinned. John gulped.

“Have you ever seen this film called “In and Out”?”

“No, don’t watch many films. Doesn’t sound intellectually stimulating. Is it rude?”

“No, it’s. Oh, it doesn’t matter. My point is that the main character got told he was gay before he knew it and it took a kiss from a guy to make him know.”  
Sherlock looked confused for a second but then moved quickly up to John. John went as far back in his seat as he could.  
“Sherlock. I am not going to kiss you to work out whether I have feelings towards men.”

“But, why not John? It worked for the guy in the film. And it seems logical. I don’t mind and I won’t tell anyone. Just don’t go bashful around Mycroft.” He knelt down and sat on his feet. Sherlock had a teasing smile on his face, one John had seen him use on many people when he wanted his way.

“Hang on. You want this.”

Sherlock stiffened as though hurt. “I am merely trying to help you establish what you feel. If you don’t want to find out...” He paused, he knew what John was thinking.

“Sherlock. If I do this.” Sherlock smirked and knelt up. “If, Sherlock, if! You most definitely can’t tell anyone. And definitely never mention you ripping that bomb jacket off in the swimming pool.” Sherlock nodded.

“It would do nothing for my reputation anyway.”

“Oh, thanks Sherlock.”

Sherlock shuffled round and leant over the side of Johns chair.

“Sherlock?”  
“Hm?”  
“Have you done this before?”  
“No.”

John looked nervously over at Sherlock. It was true he supposed that he did slightly put emphasis and that he always enjoyed meeting Harry’s girlfriends. They had always been really friendly to him. Perhaps Sherlock had a point. Well, he seemed to be in too deep now. Sherlock was too close and looked nervous but eager. Probably just wants to be proved right. He is such a teen, though maybe he was having a good impact on him. Sherlock did seem a bit more understanding lately. He obviously was a High-functioning Sociopath but perhaps John had helped him to become, well more humane.

“Well?” Sherlock was slightly impatient with the speed of Johns brain, oblivious to how long it normally takes people to realise they may have hidden feelings.

“I, erm, I guess you are fairly good looking to some people and,“ he paused and looked into Sherlock’s eyes. Something seemed to fit about this situation. “me I guess.” He finished. Sherlock started to smile and John found himself leaning in and placing a soft kiss on Sherlock’s lips.

Sherlock looked slightly surprised and for once speechless.

“And you’ve really never kissed anyone before Sherlock?” John asked

“It didn’t seem important. I had other stuff to do; cases to finish, books to read.” Sherlock looked sort of sedate but unsure.

“So you’ve never done it with anyone?”

“Obviously not, John. Like I said, unimportant and irrelevant to my life and cases.”

Definitely sociopathic, thought John. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like without any fun.

“So did it help?” Sherlock wanted to know now.

“One kiss, will hardly tell me Sherlock.” He found himself laughing out. This was not right. John was asking Sherlock for another kiss.

“Interesting” Sherlock said. “The fact that you say you can’t tell from one kiss and yet that film you mentioned earlier-“

“Shut up Sherlock.” John interrupted and pulled his lapels in for a proper kiss.

Sherlock looked surprised again. “That was different to the last.”

John sighed and smirked, Sherlock obviously knew nothing at all about kissing.

“That, Sherlock was a real kiss. A real first kiss.” John paused and felt his lips. It seemed to have become okay to kiss a man, his flatmate, a sociopath.

“John, I” Sherlock began awkwardly.

John grabbed his lapels again and this time fully explored Sherlock’s mouth. He pulled away and this time Sherlock felt his lips.

“You are meant to do that back.”

“Oh, right.” This time Sherlock leaned in and John found himself being kissed and explored. Boy did Sherlock learn fast. John was getting into this. He felt nervous but free, for once, he felt entirely free.

“Sherlock” he said smiling slightly as they broke for air. “Do you want to learn some more?”

Sherlock smirked “If it helps.” John grinned back and awkwardly stood up. Sherlock looked up at him surprised.

“Upstairs?” John asked. Sherlock stood up quickly and John took the lead, glancing downstairs.

“Don’t worry John. I gave Mrs Hudson some money and she decided to go buy us a microwave; and have lunch on us.” He grinned. “She is out for a while yet.” John glanced at him surprised.

“Oh, right.” He said and ran up the stairs. Sherlock ran up too and John was on the landing failing at deciding which room to go in. Sherlock opened the door to his bedroom and John entered for the first time.


	2. Primary Conclusion?

John stood awkwardly in the doorway. Sherlock's room was messier than his. Books festooned various places and he had files and folders dumped in a huge box. The occasional body part looked back at John as he scanned the room and its many jars. There was a life-size picture of a skeleton on the wall with darts and pins sticking out of it. Well, at least it wasn't an actual skeleton.

"Mrs Hudson wouldn't let me have one" Sherlock answered as though reading Johns thoughts "And I didn't want a plastic one." He smiled sadly and pulled off his jacket.

John gulped nervously and pulled off his jumper. This was a scary preposition, new, with Sherlock, which meant John could get hurt. Sherlock obviously saw John hesitate so he walked over undoing the last of his shirt buttons to reveal an almost bare chest and a stomach so smooth it just invited the touch of a hand.

John looked up at Sherlock who didn't look nervous, just intrigued. Sherlock reached down and lifted John's hands placing them on his hips. John smiled nervously. They were both novices at this kind of thing, although John of course had experience with women. He moved his right hand up and stroked Sherlock's chest, circling his nipples which were stiffening in the cold. John moved closer as he did this and Sherlock looked surprised as John teasingly reached up and kissed him, breaking before Sherlock could get his tongue in, leaving him wanting more. John looked up at Sherlock and into those eyes, the eyes that were looking deep into him, desperate to know what John had planned, what was going to happen next, a slight thrill went through John. Today, he thought, I am teaching Sherlock something. Sherlock grinned slightly and John felt himself get harder, he looked down at Sherlock, nothing. He knew he would have to help Sherlock, bless that man and his innocence. Abandoning the thoughts that this was absurd and completely out of character John relaxed and took control.

With one hand he began to undo his shirt buttons and with the other began to tease the flesh of Sherlock, getting any and all reactions. Sherlock was getting impatient and swiftly undid the rest of John's button allowing John's shirt to fall to the floor in a flutter of seconds. Sherlock bent down and gave John a slow lingering kiss where the scar shone on his left shoulder in contrast to his pale skin. John moaned and pushed Sherlock towards the bed. Barely noticing him slipping off his shirt, carefully and throwing it swiftly, but perfectly on to a chair.

John leaned up and kissed Sherlock deeply, as deeply as he could manage steering him backwards onto the bed. As he fell on top of Sherlock, he broke off just to smile at him and the slight surreal nature of what was happening. Sherlock barely had time to change his expression before John had pounced on his mouth and started to abuse the tongue that Sherlock has so swiftly given him. He teasingly pulled his teeth along his tongue and heard Sherlock's breath catch in pleasure. Finally Sherlock was starting to feel something. Sherlock leaned up towards John unwilling to break lip contact and John forced him to shuffle backwards up the bed till his curly locks rested on the pillow.

John broke away to pull off Sherlock's trousers and pants, still nothing, though he could see a slight increase in colour compared to the rest of Sherlock's pale skin. He grinned, he could feel his own hard on pushing against his trousers, begging for release. The sight of Sherlock starting to sit up, wanting John's mouth back on his forced him to hold out. He pushed Sherlock down and slowly slid up Sherlock's body. His hard on connecting with Sherlock's own cock through his trousers and he heard an intake of breath. John slid his hands over Sherlock's body, it was so smooth, John felt like it had been waiting for the day he could run his hands over it.

He arched up slightly to nibble at Sherlock's ear, enjoying the knowledge that Sherlock's breathing was becoming more ragged. He kissed the ear slightly tugging it as Sherlock turned his head. "John." Sherlock's voice sounded husky, he moved down so he could kiss Sherlock's neck. Another slight intake of breath and a slightly breathless "John" was said again. John looked up and Sherlock leaned in for a kiss. John licked Sherlock's lips and shook his head. Sherlock collapsed backwards as John slowly worked his way downwards, kissing as much of Sherlock as he could whilst keeping his hard on close to Sherlock's cock. He gave in and moved further down, now Sherlock started to react, he was quivering, slightly shaking as John's mouth connected with one of his balls kissing it softly. He slowly kissed the beautiful cock in front of him. It truely was beautiful, John had never noticed before, he had never allowed himself to notice.

Sherlock reached down and pulled John up, right on top of him. He couldn't lie still any longer. John had done enough teasing, Sherlock was ready to commit. Unlike John, Sherlock couldn't base anything on previous experience but it seemed logical. He rolled on top of John and John felt a thrill as Sherlock's hard on finally connected with his. Sherlock was desperate now, he was kissing John like his life depended on it. John moved his hands down to stroke Sherlock's arse and felt a thrill as Sherlock reacted to him. He had been longing for this. Sherlock dived downwards intensely kissing John's body as he roughly tried to pull John's trousers off without undoing them. Sense kicked in and Sherlock struggled with the buttons before ripping off Johns trousers with feverous delight.

John felt Sherlock pause to gaze at John's ripe cock glistening with anticipation. Sherlock stroked it slowly with his slender fingers, teasingly he stroked around John's balls with a delight John normally saw with a dead body, that thought chilled him and thrilled him at the same time. Sherlock was back up top now and attempting to find new places to explore in John's mouth. John could feel him expectant and ready waiting for something to happen. Innocent John remembered. He reached and gently pulled Sherlock's cock next to his. He started to rub them both at the same time. He felt Sherlock stiffen more, John was doing good, it was just like a double wank except more involved.

They both started to push in and the sensation drove John mad. He felt exhilarated, the rhythmic sensation was electric, the freedom he felt. He wriggled down kissing Sherlock on the neck, Sherlock moaned and started to move faster, Sherlock craved his touch. John reached down and started to rub Sherlock's cock fast, rewarding by a moan of bliss in the word "John". Sherlock was running out of breath and John could feel he was about to come. His hips jutted into John's hard and suddenly he relaxed. John moved his hand onto his own cock craving the attention and looked into Sherlock's blissful face, the relaxation and joy. He felt himself move faster than Sherlock had been, and arched backwards, the thought of the gorgeous guy in front of him spurring him on. He felt a slender hand entwine his and push it off. The fingers teased their way faster and faster up and down, John panting out Sherlock's name till suddenly John's cock released joyfully over Sherlock.

They lay there for a few minutes just panting until Sherlock broke the silence. "Well John," the enjoyment and smugness bursting out of him "do you think you have feelings towards men?"


	3. The Case Begins

Before John had a chance to even contemplate a reply Sherlock's phone beeped and he jumped out of bed. He momentarily surveyed the mess, when he had thrown John's trousers away they had hit the skeleton bending a dart. Sherlock allowed himself a small grin at the location; the pelvic region. He pulled out his phone "It's from Lestrade, we need to meet him at Scotland Yard." Sherlock flustered for a moment as though unsure whether to just get dressed or have a shower. He bounded out of the room with a cry of "Hurry John!"

John lay there just trying to process what had happened. Hang on, "Oh God" he groaned and jumped out of bed. He hoped, as he rushed into his bedroom that Anderson and Donovan wouldn't be there. He was sure they would be able to tell. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. He wholeheartedly blamed Sherlock, he could be so manipulative, he reminded John of that guy on tv, Derren Brown sometimes.

It wasn't even that John had been manipulated, it was like hypnosis, but then maybe that was part of it, John had been transformed, freed but reality was kicking in now, he became less sure of himself. He grabbed his towel and sat on his bed, replaying the mornings events in his mind. He couldn't understand it, it was just Sherlock and his reasoning was always at least 95% right. Maybe he had found something inside John that had reacted right. Sherlock sauntered past his room wrapped only in a towel. John stared, that smooth stomach, now with water droplets sliding down to the towel, glistening in the light, John looked at the hand that had stroked it.

"John, hurry!" Sherlock shouted and John started, his hand had subconsciously drifted to his mouth and was now drifting over his lips. He rushed to the bathroom.

######    


###### 

  


By the time John had got dressed and made it down to the living room, Sherlock was pacing and in mid-text with someone. Sherlock glanced up and motioned to the stairs.

"Mycroft has a case. He is in a meeting and can't talk. Probably planning another war."

######    


###### 

  


Sherlock stepped to the edge of the kerb and threw out his arm still texting with the other, a taxi pulled up and Sherlock jumped in with a shout of "Scotland Yard and use the A4 not Park Lane." John clambered in still amazed at Sherlock's power of having taxis arrive at his feet each time. Maybe he had hypnotised them. No, John was getting carried away.

###### 

By the time they had seated themselves in Lestrades Office, John had tried to think of everything but the events of the morning and mostly succeeded, apart from every time he had glanced at Sherlock who had spent the entire journey texting away. John wasn't sure he would be able to look at the lips without remembering kissing and licking them, nor look into his eyes without remembering the feverish delight and curiosity at a new experience. Oh God thought John, not a good time for a semi. He crossed his legs over and looked up as Lestrade sat down.

"Okay, we've got a suspicious suicide. A hanging. Could be suicide or murder, probably suicide but we can't work out how the bugger did it." Sherlock stopped texting to look up, as he opened his mouth Lestrade started talking again. "We have taken the body down already and he is in the morgue being looked over as we speak. Current prognosis is asphyxiation, which makes sense." He paused as though expecting Sherlock to interrupt, he didn't. Both John and Lestrade looked surprised. "We have pictures of the body hanging." He handed a packet over to Sherlock who took them out and one by one handed them to John, holding on to one and scanning the face carefully.

He glanced up at Lestrade who continued "It is a disused warehouse, owned by a Roger Payne." Sherlock's gaze dropped back to his phone and he continued texting. Lestrade looked at John exasperated and directed the rest of the words towards him. "I would have explained this at the scene of course, but there is a grieving widow moping around. It seems that the hanged man was a Peter Payne, brother of Roger."

Sherlock looked up, a slight bored expression on his face. "Shall we see the crime scene then?"

###### 

As he sat down in the taxi next to Sherlock John turned to him and opened his mouth to speak. Sherlock pre-empted him. "Mycroft has a case which looks like both a suicide and a murder, some dignitary or other, wants us to take a look. Also a friend in France has a case for me but is neglecting all the important facts. A cousin in Glasgow has had some jewellery stolen from their house. So in total John, I have 5 cases on the go." John looked out of the window letting the mind of Sherlock Holmes impress him. "Hang on" he said turning "5 cases?"

Sherlock smirked back at John, "Oh yes John. The 5th case is you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last line still creeps me out slightly.


	4. Conclusion, Continuation & Commencement

"Damn it," John muttered, "Sherlock really picks his moments!" No sooner had the sentence passed his lips than the cab had stopped and Sherlock had jumped out, thrown some money to the driver, and was already dashing to Lestrade by the big doors. John had rushed after him and by the time he had caught up, Sherlock had spoken to the grieving widow and was walking towards the doors. John sighed; one of these days Sherlock might actually let him join in fully instead of dashing off, finding impossible facts and astounding everyone, making them feel stupid and insecure about their IQ, whilst expecting them to see all the facts.

John took a deep breath and focused on the case at hand. Mustn't get too caught up focusing on Sherlock's Case 5. He felt rather paranoid now; he felt like some blood cells in a test tube being prodded, tested and told what they are. But he had enjoyed it – that much was definite.

Sherlock was walking around in a circle by the time John had caught up, the hanging chain being the centre point. Slowly he moved inwards looking at the ground, the chain and the knot. He smiled and looked at Lestrade. "Boring and simple." Lestrade stared back at him; he really shouldn't feel incredulous every time Sherlock did this but he couldn't help it. Lestrade was a top notch detective turned average plod when compared to Sherlock.

"Ok, explain," he said, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Oh, well I thought even you could have worked out it is murder." Lestrade stared. Sherlock began to walk swiftly towards the door. Lestrade called after him. "Sherlock!" Sherlock turned, rolling his eyes.

"When you look at the body, look at the hands; there will be bruising and cuts, the shoulders will also be strained and possibly dislocated. He was hanging on." He pointed upwards to the rafter. Sherlock turned around, took a couple of steps and then turned back. "Oh, and arrest that woman and her lover." Lestrade raised his eyebrows and Sherlock sighed. "Roger!"

John glanced up and then down at the floor. He shook his head, glanced at Lestrade, glanced at the widow who was looking shocked and then raced off after Sherlock.

For once Sherlock was waiting for John in the taxi. How Sherlock had got a taxi that quickly in an industrial estate John had no clue, but he clambered in and it drove off.

"We're going back to Baker Street. Glaswegian cousin is emailing through some pictures. You might be able to help."

John stared at Sherlock "I might?"

Sherlock stared back. "Yes – I wasn't talking to the driver."

"How might I?"

Sherlock looked back seriously. "Because when it comes to trivial cases such as stealing in a community, the obvious is not always obvious to someone who thinks differently, as in logically."

John smirked. "Ok Sherlock." Sherlock admitting faults was so rare that John liked to savour them. He sat back, grinning, and looked out of the window.

Sherlock muttered, "Inferiority complex." John stopped smiling and turned to Sherlock who was now texting on his phone. Now he was sure that was a jibe at him but Sherlock could have been muttering aloud about the text. John decided to ignore it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sherlock get a little notebook out and write a small sentence about halfway through the book. As he turned to look closer Sherlock shut it and put it in his pocket. He looked up at John. "Case notes for an ongoing case."

"That book is for one case?"

Sherlock grinned. "Oh yes, I've already used up one notebook on it." John hurriedly looked out of the window trying not to think about the book and vehemently hoping it wasn't him in it. He told himself off; paranoia isn't good.

Sherlock dashed out as soon as it had stopped, leaving John to pay the driver, and by the time he had made it upstairs Sherlock had John's laptop out and was checking his emails.

John sat down opposite Sherlock and knocked a couple of books off the arm of the chair. He caught them and stared. "Case 5" he muttered. Oh God, sudden realisation hit him, this was the chair. He collapsed back into it and stared at the ceiling. After a moment he registered a change of sound. The typing had stopped and a pen was being used. John could just picture Sherlock's long fingers gripping the pen, shifting up and down as he adjusted it to keep writing. John's eyes burst open; Sherlock really had freed his mind if imagining him writing had become erotic. He tried to counteract these thoughts by thinking of something horrible or annoying. Harry burst into his mind and he allowed himself a grin at Harry being used to counteract a possible hard-on.

"Hmm..." Sherlock murmured and glanced at John in a calculating way that made John want to blush. John raised his eyebrows faking expectancy. Sherlock's eyes widened and he went back to the laptop with a mutter of "Come and look John." John stood up carefully, making sure not to knock off any more books and moved to the side of Sherlock's chair, kneeling down.

On the screen was a picture of a young girl holding a trophy. Sherlock clicked and the image changed to a broken back door, an empty glass cabinet and then a newspaper clipping. Sherlock looked up at John "There isn't enough information to reach a logical conclusion that explains the theft."

John smiled "Well the article says she has won this trophy for four years?" Sherlock nods, "So, maybe it is a simple case of jealousy? A main rival in the field."

"She is a child, John."

"Yes, but maybe a parent?"

Sherlock considered it and then flicked back to the broken door. He pointed to a spot, John leaned forward to get a closer look and Sherlock breathed in deeply, the smell of John drawn deep in to his lungs. John turned and Sherlock smirked. "I am merely curious as to the effect a smell has on desires and feelings of the body."

John paused, the couple of inches between him and Sherlock seemed planned, his eyes were burning with curiosity; they were drawing John in, closer and closer. They met, noses clashing and Sherlock arched backwards, John leaning forwards the boundaries forgotten, the open door forgotten, the laptop on the lap forgotten. It slid to the floor. Sherlock's cock no longer restrained by its pressure became an obvious bulge. "John," he moaned, and John climbed on top of him, kissing him and allowing Sherlock's tongue to once more joyfully explore the mouth that wasn't his own. John's hands slid down and gently massaged the bulge pressing up at him, Sherlock's breath caught and John grinned, pulling out of Sherlock's mouth and kissing him on the neck. John had given in completely to the thoughts that had been occupying his mind all day and he ready to take it a step further. He slowly slid down Sherlock, kicking the laptop aside, his hands reached up and once again massaged Sherlock's cock. He moaned and jutted forward. John quickly unzipped Sherlock's trousers and pulled them down.

Such a difference to last time, Sherlock's cock was ripe and waiting, he was panting with the effort of staying still, John took a deep breath and kissed one of Sherlock's balls, he licked his way along the quivering cock and stopped. He licked the end slowly. He wasn't so sure now; could he really do this? Perhaps not.

"John!" Sherlock panted; he was in control again, he had Sherlock at his mercy. He glanced up and saw a slight glimmer of the calculating Sherlock peeping through the desperate man he saw in front. "Not yet," he muttered, No, that would take a lot more thought and processing. Sherlock moaned and his hands reached down pulling John up, kissing him abruptly before once more frantically undoing John's trousers, desperate for John to be free too.

He pulled John down and a shiver of delight went through John as once more the hard cocks collided, his breathing was becoming more laboured as Sherlock's fingers snaked round his cock and started to move, catching the most sensitive areas and causing both of them to lean in towards each other. John reached down and began to work on Sherlock's cock while Sherlock concentrated on his own, they were becoming faster the hand movements less rhythmic and just when John thought he was about come Sherlock stopped moving his hand, John kept going, the sensation amazing and electric and Sherlock shuddered releasing with a cry of "Oh John!". Now Sherlock pushed John away, John looked worried, but then Sherlock leaned forward, taking John's cock in his mouth and sucking hard. Despite the laboured breathing Sherlock leaned in further and pulled back, leaving his tongue to trail the underside and John arched back. He hadn't had one of these for, well, a while. Sherlock did it again and John felt his muscles clench. Was Sherlock ready for this?

"Sherlock," John moaned, and the eyes darted upwards, the tongue licking the end of his cock with a flick and John lost the breath in his body. As Sherlock leaned in again and sucked, John released. Sherlock shuddered slightly but stayed calm, slowly withdrawing and swallowing, his eyes looking up at John's with fevered delight once more shining. They clouded over slightly as he pulled himself back on to the chair and he sat there for a moment staring at John, who came to his senses and stumbled backwards collapsing into the chair.

They tidied themselves up and then stared at each other, the bond between them strengthened and changed. There was a creak on the stairs and Mycroft walked in. Sherlock and John looked at each other and then burst out laughing, Mycroft merely rolled his eyes and sat down on the sofa awaiting a sensible discussion.


	5. Investigating the scene

Sherlock recovered first "Tea Mycroft?" The boyish nature of which he asked reminded John of Sherlock's immature nature towards his brother. Mycroft nodded and John noticed it seemed like Mycroft was baiting Sherlock as Sherlock rushed into the kitchen clanging around and reminding John how little Sherlock actually made tea in the kitchen.

Mycroft politely enquired after Johns well-being and then enquired after Harry. John smirked remembering Harry's last use and then looked surprised at Mycroft, what did Mycroft know about Harry?

Sherlock clattered in, handing out teas, his attitude once more returned to normality, giving little away other than his displeasure at having his brother there.

"Thank you Sherlock. I don't have long to stay as I am sure you will be glad to know." Sherlock stared at his brother, allowing him to speak was quicker in the long term. Mycroft smiled demurely and continued "For Johns benefit as I am sure you haven't told him much; A dignitary by the name of Diane Halburt was found dead this morning by her chauffeur. Now, normally it would be a simple death hushed up, but we can't hush it up, nor can we allow police involvement, we still need to know how she died. She has multiple stab wounds but also appears to have voluntarily taken sleeping pills beyond the limit. Obviously a suicide is easier to hide but there are signs that indicate a cover up of both murder and suicide."

John stared at Mycroft, he shared the Holmes sociopathic tendencies around deaths; they were inconvieniant and required work. Sherlock of course loved a good case and couldn't refuse, but working for his brother, again, was also a pain.

"Of course we can pay you a small fee, more if you keep the case quiet."

Sherlock glared at Mycroft who was looking at John, aware that Sherlock would refuse payment. "I can't be involved but here is a key to look around the scene. Updates regularly Sherlock, I'm sure you can manage that." Mycroft finished his teas and stood up. "Please continue with what you were doing." He smirked at Sherlock whose jaw clenched and walked out.

John looked over at Sherlock who was glaring moodily into space and coughed pointedly. Sherlock glanced at John then bent down, picked up the laptop and sent an email to his Glaswegian cousins asking about rivals in the field.

Sherlock shut the laptop with a click, jumped up and rushed out of the room. John sighed. After a few moments John heard the shower, he needed one of those now. He heard Sherlock exit the bathroom and hurried for his towel.

Ten minutes later John came down to the living room to find Sherlock lying on the sofa already dressed in coat and scarf. Sherlock's eyes opened as John finished pulling his coat on.

"I've built up a full mental picture of the dignitary and people's opinions including any press involvement." They walked outside, Sherlock hailed a taxi and they climbed in. "She had little press involvement and people generally considered her to be highly intellectual and a genuinely nice person who cared about those in need." Sherlock looked slightly bored. "Her private life is also private, no one knows much about it, although she is married to a Peter Halburt.

They both stared out of the window as a huge house came into view with a drive a mile long, fountains and shaped hedges showing just how much money was owned.

Once inside Sherlock turned to John "Follow but don't touch. Anything could have needed fingerprints." John nodded, slightly annoyed, he had been on a few crime scenes now.

Sherlock rushed around the house, occasionally pausing in random places to stroke, sniff or pick things up. John followed, it seemed like a normal huge house, rooms permanently display rooms to welcome well-off guests.

Sherlock reached the grand staircase and paused staring to the top and then closing his eyes. John caught up and stared at him, sometimes Sherlock was ultra-strange; the average person would be imagining parties and a glitzy hostess gracefully descending to a bubbly expensive ball or party; Sherlock was probably imagining possible sites of entry or exit and if you dropped from the balcony would you shatter your knee caps.

Sherlock suddenly raced upstairs and looked down at John calculating excitement bursting out of him. The lack of controlling influences such as Lestrade and Mycroft imposing their collective calmness and controlled reactions was allowing Sherlock to have fun. John allowed himself a grin as he followed Sherlock into a room.

It was a spare room with a double four poster bed and ensuite, the kind of room that would be at least 4star in any hotel. Sherlock was crouching by the bed and sniffing the pillow, he then beant down to look under the bed. He was smiling smugly as he opened a drawer in the bedside cabinet. John simply stood by, situations like this, it was best not to get caught up under Sherlock's feet; which were already dashing off, this time to the scene of the crime.

He was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he pushed open the door, reminding John of a young child finding a surprise party just for him. The customary Holmes scan took place before stepping over the threshold and the foot that stepped forward, despite its eagerness was slow and steady, unwilling to disturb the status quo.

The scene had of course been disturbed twice, first by the chauffeur and then by a Government Agent, the chauffeur following the protocol taught to him in training. The body was splayed on the bed, one arm lay on the stomach stab wounds. Multiple John noticed, fits with the irrational spur of the moment murder fuelled by passion and rage, perhaps the husband?

He glanced at the bedside cabinet, sleeping pills, 3 empty bottles of subscription based, so strong ones. Must have stored up, suggests planning and therefore the suicide leanings. John's brow furrow. Yes, he was picking up these deduction skills, but he knew why they had called on Sherlock for help. This wasn't a simple case.

Sherlock finished taming pictures and bent down to sniff the bed sheets. He looked up as John moved towards the bed, after a gesture he inspected the body. Careful not to touch any blood, John checked the airways for blockages and then glanced up at Sherlock who nodded with despair, then eagerness, pulled up the top to reveal the stab wounds fully. Sherlock reached into his pockets and pulled out a small metal stick for John to stick in to the wounds. Out of his other pockets he pulled a rule.

There was a quiet "Um, excuse me gentlemen." From the doorway and the pair turned quickly.


	6. The Gardener

John glanced at Sherlock who walked over to the man with the air of a policeman, flung an arm round his shoulders and steered him downstairs in to a living room and sat down opposite without a single word muttered. John sat down next to Sherlock was staring slightly sadly at the stranger waiting for him to speak.

The guy looked nervously back and then opened his mouth, licking his lips, "Well, I saw movement inside the house and I've seen the chauffeur drive away so I wondered who you were." He mumbled out.

Sherlock nodded "I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you Mr…?"

"Richards, Matthew Richards." He stutters "I'm the gardener here. Been here for 12 years."

"I'm sorry to inform you but Mrs Halburt is dead."

Matthew sobbed and clutched at his knees, completely in shock. John glanced at Sherlock who glanced at him with a silent plea. John got up and sat next to Matthew putting a hand on his shoulder. "I know this is tough Mr Richards" he said comfortingly "but we need you to answer a few questions."

He nodded vigorously "Of course! Anything to help!"

"Mr Richards, could you start by telling us your movements from last night to now."

"Well, um, I was watching some TV till about half ten, then I got, um ready for bed, read my book and was asleep by 11ish. I'm, I'm an early riser see, I like to watch the sunrise and hear the dawn chorus if I can. Today I was a bit late though, about 6.35. Breakfast at 7, a fry up see, so it took a while to cook. Then I went for a walk with my clippers to the Northern border about 1 and a half miles that way." He pointed away from the drive. "I was just at the small orchard when I saw the chauffeur drive off about 8.20 I think. I saw 2 other cars while I was working in the orchard. There's a couple of trees than need treating see. Then I found a bush that was in serious need of a cut back so I nipped to my shed and by the time I'd finished that and had my lunch, I saw the curtains move. Now I know that James, the chauffeur wasn't back because he generally pops in for a cup of tea and a chat or else he drops the car in the garage, in my viewline. So I thought I had better check it out and erm, here you are." He looked worried like he had told his story wrong and hadn't been able to help.

Sherlock stared at him, gently nodding deep in thought.

"Mr Richards."

"Matthew, please." He said nervously.

Sherlock nodded with a smile, still playing the policeman, "I have just a few questions for you. Where is your house?"

"It's, oh, erm, it's about a twenty minute walk towards the North East. It used to be stables, but it got renovated and I rent it very cheaply from Mrs Halb- I mean, I rented it." He broke down slightly and John gripped his shoulder tightly.

"Where is the orchard?"

He sniffed and John muttered encouragingly "Take your time Matthew."

"It's on the East, slightly back from the house, I can draw you a rough map if you want, if it helps?" Sherlock nodded and the guy glanced around for some paper. Sherlock pulled out a small lined notebook and pen, opened it to a fresh page and handed them over. When Matthew had finished Sherlock glanced at it then put it in his pocket with a small smile.

"How are the windows cleaned?" he said returning to business, losing the gentleness he had been projecting.

Matthew was slightly taken aback at his abruptness but continues "I do them, on the last weekend of the month. I use a ladder and attach weights with chain to the bottom for stability." He suddenly looked up, "You don't think someone got in through the balcony do you?"

"Nothing is impossible" Sherlock said staring at Matthew who quailed under the scrutiny.

"How, how, did she die? Was she strangled?" Sherlock and John stared at him curiously. "Was I right? Oh gosh!"

"Matthew, Mr Richards. Why did you suggest strangulation?" Matthew visibly shrunk at the official use of his name.

"I just thought, I don't know, I, I just, it was, I" he was flailing and Sherlock stepped in.

"No, Mr Richards, she wasn't strangled." He blinked slowly with shock. John half expected to hear a little "Oh" but he didn't. "She does however, have several stab wounds in the stomach." There was a small gasp of shock and John couldn't resist a small smile. "Do you live with anyone Mr Richards?"

"Oh, yes, my partner Jeremy. He isn't in at the moment. He went to visit his gran in a care home this morning. He goes every week," John saw Sherlocks eyes glint, he already knew Matthew was gay and missed a few parts about the day."

"Are you not open Mr Richards?" Sherlock muttered, "Or were you protecting Jeremy?"

Matthew blanched "No Jeremy was with me almost all night."

"Almost?" asked Sherlock jumping on the variable in the statement.

"Yes, the dog wouldn't stop barking about half twelve so Jeremy took him for a walk for half an hour or so to calm him down. He should be back in about half an hour, you an ask him."

"Does the dog often do that?"

"Occasionally."

"More so recently?"

"Um, I suppose so." He looked confused.

"Ok, would you mind carrying on with your work, while we look round and finish up? We will let you know when we leave."

Matthew nodded, got up and left through the back door.

Sherlock turned to John, "Shall we finish measuring then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so a short chapter for you, but hopefully you are trying to work out what's happening, I doubt you've worked it out, because I haven't given you much to go on so far, but please tell me any theories!


	7. The partner and the taxi ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just go with the flow, the taxi ride spans 20mins, it just seems a lot quicker written down.

They quickly measured the wounds, Sherlock taking photos of everything including depth and angles. Then scanning over the bottles of pills and photographing two different types to research the effect they have when taken together.

Once Sherlock had been satisfied with the body, sniffed in random corners and checked out the balcony (unlocked), they headed downstairs to let Matthew know they were leaving and that some men would come and take the body away. As they left Matthew, who was still visibly distressed they saw another man heading towards Matthews house, Sherlocks pace quickened and the guy turned as they approached.

"Mr…." Sherlock left it hanging.

"Jeremy Barnes" he said holding out his hand, which Sherlock shook.

"Sherlock Holmes, I'm investigating the death of Mrs Diane Halburt."

Jeremy stared at Sherlock and then fell backwards leaning against a fence.

"You didn't know?" said John kindly. Jeremy shook his head, hand shaking by his mouth, the other cuddling himself; the standard response to shock. Sherlock looked down at him, "Did you see anyone about when you walked the dog during the night?"

Jeremy looked up, desperation in his eyes "No, is that when something happened? You mean, I could have been right next to whoever killed Mrs Halburt?" The shock appeared to seize him and at that moment Matthew appeared to put his arm round Jeremy.

"We shall come back and ask some more questions, Mr Barnes." Sherlock paused and looked thoughtful, "Sorry for the shock."

It was getting dark as they reached the front of the house and a taxi pulled up. Sherlock smirked at Johns confused expression and opened the door allowing John to clamber in first. Before they had reached the end of the drive Sherlock had his phone out and was texting away. John looked out at the house through the window, trying to come up with a solution before Sherlock. After a couple of minutes of confusion, his phone beeped. It was from Sherlock.

 _"Move to the middle seat. SH."_

John glanced at his phone and then up at Sherlock. He started to type;

 _"You could just talk. And why? JW."_

 _"So could you. I need to show you something. SH."_

John looked down confused.

 _"We still have a twenty minute ride. SH"_

John just stared.

 _"A picture John. SH."_

 _"Why not just say that? JW"_

 _"I am trying something out. Just do it. SH"_

John shuffled over and as the driver looked in the mirror Sherlock showed John a picture from the house that he had taken when in the living room of a dirty picture with a clean swipe across the faces of Diane and Peter. John handed it back and made to move but Sherlock put his foot on Johns. He glanced at Sherlock worried, who smirked out of the corner of his mouth. Johns phone beeped, Sherlock, he hadn't even seen him typing.

 _"Keep your phone at that level and anything you go to say or any noise, text it. Clear? SH."_

John looked very worried.

 _"All clear but why? JW"_

 _"I'll show you. SH"_

Sherlocks hand snaked down and stroked Johns leg.

 _"Sherlock!"_

 _"What? Do you not enjoy that?"_

 _"3 times in 1day though?"_

 _"Why not? How long can you hold?"_

 _"Dont test me Sherlock! Im not an experiment! Oh Sherlock!"_

Sherlock smirked and glanced at the driver, no glances back since showing John the phone, good. His hand wandered upwards slightly on the inside of Johns leg.

 _"Sherlock!"_

 _"Just relax John! Try and look impassive."_

 _"Have u o have u tried it?"_

Sherlock shook his head slightly, text speak, never a real fan, but he supposed, it was slightly hard for John to focus fully, and if that speeded up his replies, well, text speak it must be.

 _"Very good substitution of spoken words John."_

John felt his belt being silently undone. He could not pretend this wasn't exciting, but it was so public and the driver was just there! He could look back at any moment!

 _"Sherlock! Must u do this right now?"_

 _"yes John, Case 5 is intriguing me and it is a good distraction from Case 2."_

 _"Sherlock, wait till we get back!"_

 _"Are you objecting to being called a case?"_

 _"Just slightly"_

 _"Well, as long as it is only slightly."_

 _"No Sherlock I was being sarcastic! Of course I o stop! O o"_

 _"I see."_ His hand was in Johns trousers now and had just stroked all the way to the end of Johns now very hard cock and slowly trailed back. He moved slightly faster upwards. _"Stop? Ok."_ He curved round the tip of Johns cock and then pulled quickly but surreptitiously to the base. Sherlock heard Johns breath catch and pulled his hand out once he had held down Johns hips from bucking slightly.

 _"Sherlock! Dont do that again. Dont."_ Sherlock could hear Johns breath, rather ragged but quietly so as not to alert the driver.

 _"Did it feel good John? Did it?"_

 _"Yes, and you bloody know that too."_

 _"We will be at Baker Street in 2 minutes. Can you hold it?"_

John just glared at Sherlock, he was enjoying this case too much, but thought John, probably for the wrong reasons.


	8. Questions are mounting

As they pulled up to 221B Baker Street John jumped out, but Sherlock grabbed him,  
"John, do you have any money? I'm all out." He glared at Sherlock but chucked some money at the driver, fully aware of his hard-on. Luckily, the driver couldn't see from that angle. He turned to glare at Sherlock, but he had vanished. John rushed inside feeling very self-conscious and blushing slightly.  
"Sherlock!" he yelled uncomfortably, running upstairs, aware that Mrs Hudson could appear at any moment. He burst into the flat and looked around. Vanished. Nowhere to be seen. The door closed quietly behind him. Sherlock stepped silently up to John and stroked him across the shoulders with a gentle, lingering kiss to the neck. John shivered slightly; it was a very delicate touch, rather sensual. He breathed in slowly, his annoyance fading.  
"You should relax more John."  
John's jaw clenched. "You were the one making me tense."  
Sherlock smirked, John was so predictable.  
"Did you not enjoy that, John?" Sherlock moved in tight to John and ran his hands carefully down his chest.  
"I can't say I did too much." He paused.  
"But?" interjected Sherlock.  
"There was a certain amount of thrill... Look, Sherlock!" he turned to stare at Sherlock who looked blankly back at him, with just a hint of confusion. "Just because you have discovered I have a certain amount within me that likes men," Sherlock smirked again, "does not mean that I am wanting to keep on, you know, doing stuff." Sherlock looked confused.  
"But doesn't it bring you enjoyment, John? A good feeling? A momentary high?"  
"Well, yes, Sherlock, but-" John was cut off by Sherlock kissing him. He pushed him away slightly.  
"John, surely we can talk after? A hard-on," Sherlock said it very slowly and John felt himself react, "must be very uncomfortable." Each word was accentuated and John felt like once again he was being manipulated.  
He gulped slightly as he felt his belt being undone for a second time, and then his trousers followed. He bulged against his boxers, the lack of trousers adding only a tiny bit of comfort. He looked slightly nervously up at Sherlock who took his head gently in his long fingers and kissed him on the lips for a half a soft second. John looked into those deep, calculating eyes and smiled; he felt slightly honoured that a man as brilliant as Sherlock Holmes was now stroking his chest, and moving his hands slowly down.  
Sherlocks hand brushed the tender skin around John's cock and his eyes absorbed the reaction on John's face. The slight pang of desperation in his eyes, a longing to be touched, and he felt John's hand move up his arm, attempting to move his hand to that which desired it so. John's breath was becoming more ragged and he moaned, "Sherlock."  
It was more like torture to John, not being touched.  
Sherlock crouched down and carefully pulled John's boxers down. John sighed as something finally connected with him. His eyes opened wide as he felt Sherlock suddenly kiss the end of his cock.  
This was strange, twice in one day, by a man who had never done anything before today. The thought flashed through John's mind before it went black with passion as Sherlock lightly sucked in with a slightly deeper kiss. He felt his hips jut just slightly and Sherlock opened his mouth to receive him.  
John ran his hands through Sherlock's hair. This felt strange but so right.  
"Sherlock," he muttered, voice all husky "please just do it.."  
Sherlock trailed his tongue along the underside of the cock and looked up at John with a grin. His tongue circled the tip of the cock and then took John fully in. John groaned and felt himself shake slightly with pleasure. Sherlock was good. His hand gripped Sherlock tightly, trying not to hurt him as he tried to get Sherlock to move faster. He was nearly there, he could feel it building up, the torture in the taxi meaning it took a lot less time than normal. He watched Sherlock's cheeks hollow as he sucked in and John panted his name out, to be rewarded with a caressing lick in a very delicate area. John released and felt Sherlock judder slightly.  
He grinned slightly as Sherlock stood up and kissed him on the lips, hard. John tasted himself. Very strange.  
Sherlock looked at John's expression with curiosity, and then sat down as though nothing had just happened, pulling out his notebook and making a few notes.

After a moment of correction, John walk slowly over to a chair and sat down carefully. "Sherlock."  
"Hmm?"  
"Why?"  
"Why what, John?" He had his phone out now and was typing away, not giving him much attention.  
"Why today? Why me? Why three times?" He paused "How are you so good?"  
Sherlock looked up, his face a mixture of confusion and blankness. " Did you enjoy it, John..?"  
"That isn't my point, Sherlock." John tensed in his seat. Sometimes Sherlock was ignorant, it was true. He had gotten all heated and annoyed before, but he was definitely ignorant. He obviously had no idea what John was going through that day. John felt as though it was all hitting him.  
What Sherlock had uncovered, what Sherlock had done. Three times! It was a good job he could deal with stressful situations. This was certainly one. John stared at Sherlock in slight disbelief and annoyance.  
"How do you think I am feeling right now?" John stared at Sherlock until he put his phone away and looked up. He sighed slightly, a slight, 'must we?' expression upon his face.  
"Okay, John. You are feeling slightly confused - that much is obvious by the way you are drawing my attention to this fact. You are slightly happy and feeling freer, you are still on your slight high and you are slightly frustrated. Simple enough. You just can't understand why I would do such a thing." He stared at John, unblinking, purposefully keeping his assessments to a brief minimum. "Is this enough for you?"  
John glared at him, "But, why, Sherlock? Why?"  
"Do all actions need a reason?"  
"They do if they are you."  
"John," Sherlock paused for a moment, "Is it not within reason to believe that even I can act beyond reason?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? How do you think John is feeling after that statement? What do you think Sherlocks actions really are? Is it just another case? Or is it more?
> 
> In regards, to the other cases, are you any the wiser? Do you have any theories? Who is the murderer?
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Please review!


	9. Your move John

John lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling. The whole matter with Sherlock was very confusing. He had decided that he needed an early night after the talk with Sherlock and after a long shower he had climbed into bed. For hours he lay, staring at the ceiling, just mulling over the events.

Sherlock lived in logic, everything had a reason; a source and a conclusion. It was just his words, "Is it not within reason to believe that even I, can act beyond reason?" ...they were just so, well, illogical when dealing with Sherlock. Every action had logic, every question a reason, every single move an ulterior motive. John breathed out deeply and ran his hands across his face, before getting out of bed and went over to the window; lying still was not helping him.

Outside he saw a shady figure standing by the door to 221B. The figure glanced around the street before rushing off. John watched him run away curiously. There was a creak on the landing behind him and he heard Sherlock walking to his room. He glanced at the door and sighed. He needed sleep, he would be no good tomorrow without it, he just needed to not think about Sherlock for a while. He knew a few techniques thanks to his army days, and all too soon there was a gentle knock on the door and Sherlock was calling,  
"John! Are you coming out? It's already 8am."  
He rolled over slowly to look at the door wondering.

"John?" Sherlock called more softly.  
"You can come in, Sherlock." John called back after a moment, sitting up as the door tentatively opened. Sherlock was still unaccustomed to dealing with the more sensitive side of John and had, for once, made the right decision to tread lightly. They stared at each other for a moment.  
"I just wanted to run through my analysis with you." John stared at him curiously, "Of the Diane Halburt case." he added quickly. John nodded slightly.  
"Ok, Sherlock. I'll get dressed." John looked at him pointedly and Sherlock awkwardly left the room.

Sherlock wasn't sure but John needed some time alone, what Sherlock had said, he had meant, except John didn't know what Sherlock had meant. That was the trouble with being so precise, he thought as he headed downstairs to make some tea.

It wasn't as long as Sherlock thought it might be before John was walking into the kitchen, looking slightly determined. Curious, he thought. Determined, that wasn't what he had expected. Perhaps John had something to say, a prepared speech or similar. He looked up expectantly and pushed a cup of tea across the table. John took it silently and sipped it, sitting down. Sherlock stared at him and after a moment John opened his mouth and spoke.  
"I thought you had something to say to me?" Sherlock looked slightly surprised: John seemed to be avoiding the source of his feelings. Logical, Sherlock determined after a moment.  
"Yes." John looked at him, he was sure he had made the right decision to avoid the topic and he was determined to focus on Case Two only. They could deal with awkwardness. He still couldn't believe Sherlock had extracted those feelings from him. John mentally shock himself, mustn't get caught up in thoughts when he was doing so well at focusing on the matter in hand.  
"Well, what I have concluded is that there are three possible murder suspects from our current facts. The husband, Jeremy, and the chauffeur. I think the chauffeur unlikely, though. Both the husband and another man have been in the bed with Diane recently." John looked slightly surprised. "We need to speak to the husband. Sherlock stood up and then looked back down at John with a slightly awkward pause "Coming?" John thought about it for a second and then nodded, following Sherlock out of the door, and slightly worrying about the day ahead and what it held in store.


	10. Questioning Mr Halburt

They caught a taxi to a plush hotel, the kind that everyday people only see on TV or read about in books. They met Peter Halburt by some leather sofas and were swiftly served tea and cakes. Peter was tall, grey haired and slightly less jolly and rosy than he would normally be, thought John. He had no doubt that Sherlock knew if he was lying or really upset though.

After the introductions, Peter spoke first. "I understand you are representing the Government on this case."

John saw Sherlock's jaw clench and resisted a small smile. Life presented a lot more joy now he was with Sherlock, he thought for a second, before returning to the man in front of him.

"Yes," Replied Sherlock bluntly, "Could you tell us your whereabouts on the night? Please." He muttered the last word as an almost afterthought.

Peter nodded, "I was out at a do at the local Gentleman's Club. Went on a bit late, some of the chaps can talk for England. Got back about 1am. Caught a taxi. Chauffeur had the night off. All was quiet, assumed Diane was asleep so crept into my room and went to bed. I didn't see anyone  
around. Everything was normal."

"Did you hear anything unusual? Any windows or doors normally closed; open?"  
Peter thought for a moment, "Not that I can recall, although, I probably had a whiskey too many last night. It's slightly less clear than normal. Heard that pesky dog barking because it made me jump and I stubbed my toe on a camphor chest. Bought it in India you know, had it shipped all the way back. Lovely place." He smiled sadly, remembering the good time with his deceased wife, then looked up, "But that is it."

Sherlock paused for a second, "And what was your relationship like with Mrs Halburt?"

"Well," Peter looked like he was carefully measuring his words, "We were unofficially separated. We still have enough love for each other to be civil and well represented in public, but at home we have almost separate lives. Within marital boundaries of course." Sherlock's eyes narrowed a fraction and he nodded slightly.

"Well, thank you for the tea. We had best continue our investigation, we have other people to talk to. Thank you for your time, Mr Halburt, and sorry for your loss."

Sherlock strode purposefully away towards the road with John hurrying behind him. As soon as they were seated he turned to John, eyes watching his response.  
"So, what do you think, John?"  
John stared at him questioningly. Sherlock had a small smirk playing on his lips. Don't think of the lips, thought John, mentally rolling his eyes.  
"About what?"  
"Case two. Did he kill her?"  
"I'm not answering that, Sherlock! You'll make me look like an idiot!"  
"Come on, John, like with the trainers, I like a second view."  
John sighed. "Fine. He was in the house in the time boundary. He had been drinking, so your personal limitations are fewer. If he had any qualms then they may have been resolved last night."

"And?"  
"And? Um, no, I don't know." John avoided eye contact.  
"He knew his wife was having an affair."  
"Really?" Sherlock looked at John despairingly. "Oh! And they were stab wounds of passion! It all fits."  
Sherlock smirked "A lot of the facts do, indeed, fit. But there are two more people we must interview and then we must recheck times with Jeremy Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think plot wise? Are you eagerly anticipating the next scene where John and Sherlock talk things through? In which case, sorry for Case 2 taking over, I can not control the mind of Sherlock Holmes and he is trying to collect the evidence for him to be proved right, yes, he thinks he knows who did it. I am not entirely sure he does… Who do you think killed Diane?


	11. Mr Waterstone and Claude?

They made their way to a small flat about ten minutes from the Halburt House, and knocked. After a minute the door was opened by a man in his early thirties looking slightly dishevelled. Sherlock thrust his hand out; "Sherlock Holmes"

The man gulped nervously. "James Waterstone," he replied, shaking first Sherlock's hand, and then John's.

"John Watson- may we?" John gestured inside and James nervously nodded, standing back to let them pass.

When they arrived the living room the table was littered with half-drunk cups of tea and coffee. James hurriedly switched off the TV and offered them drinks, which they politely refused. James nervously gestured to the sofa, before sitting down on the edge of his chair. Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly and John wondered what he was seeing - to him, it seemed as though James was hiding a big secret.

"Tell me about your relationship with Mrs Halburt, Mr Waterstone. Was she a nice employer? Treat you with respect?" Sherlock inwardly smirked at how quick James was to accept that Sherlock knew nothing of his private affairs.

"Well, she was very, erm, courteous. She looked after her staff, made sure we had good holidays and plenty of time off." He gulped nervously.

"Where were you on the night in question?"

"I-I- I was here!" he stuttered, "on my own." He quailed under Sherlock's blank but stern expression "I swear I was!"

"I'm sure you were. Now, why don't you tell us the truth and stop hiding and lying?" Sherlock switched suddenly and James visibly flinched.

"I know..." James began haltingly, after a minute's silence, "I know it is unprofessional, but it just happened!"

"What did?" asked John, not keeping up.

James looked up rather pathetically and met John's eye for a split second. "My relationship with Di- Mrs Halburt." He finished and looked at Sherlock. "I've lost my job, haven't I?"

Sherlock stared at him. "Well, I would think looking for a new job advisable."  
James looked close to tears at the thought of losing his job. "Enjoy your job, do you, Mr Waterstone?" Sherlock asked bluntly.

"Yes! It is all I ever wanted. I had a good person to work for, solid money. I dodn't want to lose my job under any circumstances!" James sounded rather fierce and for the first time since meeting him John thought he could have done it.

"And no one can confirm your whereabouts, Mr Waterstone?"  
"No." he muttered, standing up as Sherlock nodded and stood.  
"Thank you for your time." Sherlock strode to the doorway and turned, "someone will be in touch soon."

John followed him out of the door, mind racing. This case wasn't as simple as it had seemed after talking to Peter Halburt. As he clambered into a taxi Sherlock pulled out his phone and answered it.

"Sherlock Holmes." He glanced at John, "Well, that's great news, glad to be of assistance." He was smiling slightly but it dropped off his face as soon as he had hung up. "Case three is solved. That was the Glaswegians. Exactly as we said."

John smiled, "Good. Wait, so what's happening with Case four?"

Sherlock looked grumpy. "Still waiting for information. Honestly, ask me to help and then tell me nothing!" He sighed and stared out of the window. John could imagine him crossing his arms like a little toddler wanting his own way and smiled harder.

Sherlock turned to look at him suddenly and those piercing eyes looked straight into John's, whose smile faltered. "You alright, Sherlock?"

"Hm? Perfectly alright, John. Thanks for asking." He continued to stare at John who resisted the natural urge to look away. The taxi stopped suddenly and John jolted forward in his seat almost, falling off it. Sherlock grabbed him and yanked him backwards.  
"Thanks." He muttered straightening his jacket.

"Ah, Case four has arrived in London!" John looked anxiously out of the taxi.  
"That isn't what you said before."  
"Isn't it? Oh, I must have lied - that or I did not have the information to share with you." He surveyed John's reaction and John could feel him making several mental notes and filing them away for later.  
"So, what is case four? Sherlock!" Sherlock had opened the door and stepped out. A small man stood there, wearing what Frenchmen always appear to wear in books. The stripy top, a moustache and a beret. John stared at the pair, totally confused. He chucked some money at the driver and climbed out.

He followed them in to 221B, still trying to work out what Case four was and why this man had appeared. John lingered in the doorway until Sherlock stared at him, confused.

"John, this is Claude. He works in a cheese shop." John looked very surprised but Claude walked up to him, looked him up and down.

Claude stuck his hand out and said simply, "Grana Padano." John stared at him and Sherlock smirked. "Parmesan." Claude elaborated for John, who continued to stare at Claude.  
Sherlock looked at him seriously, "That is you, John. He knows you in the way I first analysed you." Sherlock sounded as though this was the most simple thing in the world to understand. John just stared at the pair. Claude sat down and looked over at Sherlock who nodded.

"John, can you make some tea please." He nodded still looking very confused and wandered in to the kitchen. By the time he had made the tea and brought it back into the living room, Sherlock was sitting back in his chair and was in deep concentration. Claude stood up suddenly.

"So, Sherlock, you know the facts now. I must depart. I shall contact you if there are any... developments." Sherlock nodded slightly and Claude walked to the door. He stopped when next to John and muttered. "Beware of the Ardrahan."

John stared at Sherlock who looked back it him, a face full of innocence.  
"What was all that about?"  
"Oh, the Case."  
"Which was what, Sherlock?" John was getting annoyed. He wasn't used to being talked to with cheese as the main topic. "What did he say? What is the case?"  
"Oh, just something to do with cheese. What did he say to you?"  
"Just 'Beware the Ardrahan'. What did he mean?"  
Sherlock sat bolt upright, "I think we need to look at this case more carefully. Pass me a laptop, we need to look up cheese.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling this might be confusing, which is good. All will be revealed as time progresses.
> 
> Cheese is fascinating, I suggest you look up Grana Padano on and read the description. Please let me know if you think it fits John. This with a mixture of what you know about the cheese. - I don't actually expand on this. If you want to know more, drop me a note.
> 
> Thanks to 2cajuman2 for cheese advice and explanation. I'd have been lost without your knowledge, you cheese geek.


	12. John makes a decision

John sat on the sofa, rather stunned and confused, sipping his tea - which was going cold. Every now and then Sherlock glanced at him. John was staring into space, just trying to get his head around the last couple of days.

Sherlock was so confusing. John still didn't know how he had known. Still couldn't puzzle how he had hidden from himself. 'Did I enjoy it?' he thought, 'I think I did.'  
Sherlock finished typing and looked up for a second, before springing to his feet and crossing to the doorway.

"Sherlock," John said, and Sherlock stopped turning curiously to stare at John. He could tell John had been thinking about him but John also sounded stern. Sherlock dithered, unsure of John's intentions. "Shut the door." Sherlock stared. "Sherlock! Shut the door." Sherlock slowly began to close it, analysing John as quickly as he could. John jumped up and Sherlock let go of the door in surprise; this didn't match John.

John marched over to Sherlock and pushed him roughly against the door, earning a satisfying click from the lock.

John looked up into Sherlock eyes. "Don't want Mrs Hudson to walk in." Sherlock continued to stare at John. He was still roughly pinned against the door, clothes askew and wrinkled. Sherlock's mind raced - what was John about to do? Question him? Torture? His questions were answered when John released him and began to undo his shirt. Sherlock's eyes widened in confusion as John finished unbuttoning him and laid his head against his chest.

Sherlock looked down at John, but before he knew what to say John's hands had slid round under his shirt and were caressing his back. He felt slightly powerless but he didn't know what to do with his hands, so he just left them hanging limply by his sides. Suddenly Sherlock jumped slightly; John's hands were on his buttocks and he was pressed in really tight. He could feel John's ragged breath tickling slightly on his chest and he grinned slightly at the absurdity.

John was feeling more confident now; there had been a slight moment of panic at the strangeness as he had lain his head on Sherlock's chest, but now he was in control again - and of Sherlock too, judging by the way Sherlock had gone quiet. It was almost as though the detective were waiting for instructions or orders.

"Sherlock," John breathed out, coughing slightly, then, "Sherlock." More forcefully, "Lie down on the sofa." John looked up at Sherlock as he gave his buttocks a quick squeeze, before slowly stroking his hands back up Sherlock's body and pulling him down for a quick kiss. As Sherlock shifted to do as John said, John put his hands on his shoulders and tugged off his shirt and jacket.

Sherlock felt slightly lost, but also that their relationship had suddenly taken a step forward. He mentally stored several notes to add to his notebook as he sat down on the sofa, watching John take off his cosy jumper, shirt and vest. Though why John needed a vest, he had no idea.

John advanced on Sherlock and kissed him; full on with tongue, pushing deep and learning about Sherlock in the process. He slowly pushed Sherlock backwards until he was lying down and John's hand crept down to undo Sherlock's trousers. John pulled away slightly as he worked Sherlock's belt out and saw Sherlock' s eyes open suddenly as he reached down and massaged him gently  
through his boxers.

Sherlock began to pant; the friction between boxers, cock, and the teasing hand torture. He felt like John was getting his own back for the taxi teasing and smirked slightly.  
John reached up and pulled Sherlock's boxers down, allowing them to move quickly and making Sherlock arch upwards. Sherlock leaned up and kissed John with a moan. He moved his own hands up and over Johns back and slowly down. Using John's own tricks against him, he pushed his hands under John's waistband and pulled him close with a tight squeeze.

John groaned with the tug as Sherlock pulled him close, forcing his own cock - which he had been ignoring - to connect with Sherlock's through the thick fabric and was suddenly glad as one of Sherlock's hands moved to stroke his own cock rather roughly. He leant forward into Sherlock as he lost the last vestiges of air in his lungs and used his other hand, no longer supporting his weight, to undo his trousers for more freedom.

He stroked Sherlock's cock forcefully and felt his buttock being clenched rather hard. Their hands no longer free to investigate they knocked noses, each starting to work harder on the other. John could feel that he had the better angle and soon Sherlock was panting his name, hands becoming mere reflexive movements as his mind became foggy and he arched up and released with a loud cry.

Within seconds Sherlock had spun John over and was pumping him furiously with the last of his energy, panting hard, eyes closed till he felt John about to release when he opened them to focus on the face filled with bliss. With a final pump, John released, and Sherlock collapsed onto him.  
John shifted slightly, and they lay there, comfortably entwined, experiencing euphoria.

John felt pleased with his sudden call and knew, by the way they had both reacted, that it was the right choice. He had rarely enjoyed a moment like that as much as he just had. It all seemed to fit, just like the lanky body curled around him. He smiled happily and dozed off.

Sherlock felt rather confused. He supposed that Case Five had taken a logical step, but he didn't expect to find himself shirtless, trousers undone, slightly damp and, most importantly, cuddling John Watson after a surprise attack. A very nice feeling attack, but still, a surprise one. He was sure that John had been about to question him. That would have been logical, although he did have a lot of notes to write up. John seemed fairly fixated on this case rather than equally spreading curiousity. For some reason, he decided to stay curled up with John, because it felt nice and it gave him a chance to puzzle and observe him from a different angle. He could feel John's breathing change as he dozed off and after a second's thought pulled the blanket off the top of the sofa and draped it over them both. Well, now was as good a time as any for a few minutes of sleep.

Sherlock shifted slightly as he positioned the blanket and so did John. There was a moment wherein Sherlock thought John would get up so he lay still, but John simply moved his arm around Sherlock and settled down to nap even more.

Sherlock lay, totally relaxed in a tight embrace, and thought to himself how things had changed since moving to 221b with John. He smiled slightly as he drifted off, vehemently hoping that John would stay with him, as life seemed more logical with him around.

In the top corner of the room a small camera silently took a snap shot. Somewhere in London, in a darkened room, an eyebrow was being raised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it has happened! What did you think?
> 
> Who owns the camera? I have 2 suspects, but is it a 3rd person? An unknown? When will the future tell us?
> 
> Hope it was ok for you. Don't the boys seem settled. I think we need a spanner in the works. Or perhaps I'll leave that for another fic.
> 
> The end is in sight! Only 2 cases are still ongoing. The Cheesey mystery and The Halburt Death. Although, case 5 – John, hasn't finished and there is a lot more to be discovered, it has reached a satisfying plane of knowledge that Sherlock is content to leave be for a while.


	13. Texts and an unknown helper

Light was fading fast when Sherlock's phone beeped. His eyes shot open and he froze while he tried to work out where he was. His hair was tickling his nose as air was being breathed out. He relaxed; he was curled up on John. His phone beeped again and John shifted under him, stirring.

Sherlock carefully started to climb over John who opened his eyes and smiled dozily at the anxious face inches above him. Sherlock kissed him gently on the lips before standing awkwardly.

John watched as he did up his trousers and bent over to pick up his jacket. Sherlock really did have a good figure, even if he was slightly lanky and bony, a few square meals and he would be fine. 'Stop thinking like a Doctor,' he thought to himself, 'or a wife…'

Sherlock finally found his phone, discovering a voice mail from Mycroft and three texts from Claude. He clicked on the first text:  
 _"Sherlock, you were right. He is in The Ritz. How unsubtle. Arranging a meeting now for 8pm."  
"He has turned up here! I am worried. My preparations are not complete."  
"Do not worry yourself. Your associate has turned up and everything is running smoothly."_  
Sherlock frowned; he hadn't sent any associate to help Claude. Slightly confused, he listened to his voicemail.

 _"Sherlock, I expect answers. I shall be at 221B Baker Street at 7. Promptly. Mycroft."_  
He looked at the time - 6pm. So, an hour til Mycroft arrived. Plenty of time for to have a shower, send some texts and an email and check the photos from the scene. He quickly fired off three texts:  
To Mycroft: _"Fine. I have answers. SH."_  
To Claude: _"I sent no associate. Are you and Mary-Sue safe? SH"_  
To an unsaved number: _"Tell me exactly what time you were in the Halburt house, lives may depend on it. SH"_

He turned to John, "Mycroft will be here in an hour. I am going for a shower." John nodded and after a moment followed Sherlock out of the room.

John wandered into his room and straightened up items on his bedside table, deep in thought, reliving the living room acts. After a minute he heard Sherlock get out of the shower and pad downstairs to the living room. He smiled slightly and headed off to the shower.

Sherlock had retrieved his phone and was emailing a contact. He grabbed both his and John's shirts and headed back upstairs with only a towel around his waist. As he reached the bathroom he glanced in to see John trying to scrub part of his back but failing. Sherlock grinned naughtily, stepped inside the bathroom silently, dropping all the clothes on the floor, including his towel, and stepped in behind John.

His hand closed over John's and he heard him gasp and choke on the shower water. He took the flannel off him and gently cleaned his back. With each stroke he inched closer. The hand stopping John from turning moving slowly around his chest.

John gasped in surprise as Sherlock stopped resisting and dropped the flannel, pushing close on to John. One hand holding John close and one hand snaking down.

Sherlock grinned as he pushed his hard-on into John's back and snaked his fingers around Johns own. He was easy to read - plus, he had read that showers were supposed to increase arousal for some. He loved being right.

John spun round and pulled Sherlock down for a kiss. Sherlock was all too happy to oblige and John fell back against the wall as Sherlock kissed him deeply, the water cascading down, their bodies sliding against each other, feeling like one.


	14. A visitor and some toast

They had sat in the shower for a few minutes grinning, the water falling continuously, until they had run out of hot water and jumped out quickly, laughing.

"Sherlock!" Sherlock glanced at John and quickly wrapped a towel around his waist, stepping in to the corridor.

"Mrs Hudson!" John hid behind the door listening.

"Oh. You have a visitor, shall I show them into the living room?"

"That would be best, thank you." John smiled, Sherlock was so different with Mrs Hudson. He heard the stairs creak as Mrs Hudson walked downstairs and after a moment came out of the bathroom. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen so John assumed he was getting dressed. He rushed to his room, knowing Sherlock would be ready ridiculously quickly.

###### 

John left his room and walked straight in to Sherlock who was lurking by the doorway. He looked at John briefly before muttering "Say nothing, let me do the talking." John nodded slightly confused, but then, since meeting Sherlock, confusion was normality.

John followed Sherlock in to the living room and tried not to obviously attempt to analyse the nervous aging, rather plump man sitting in Sherlock's chair. Sherlock sat down in Johns chair and crossed his leg over. John was suddenly reminded of Mycroft. The man gulped nervously and licked his lips, caught in Sherlocks car headlight gaze.

"I" the man began "I was asked by Mr Halburt to open his front door and make sure that he didn't fall down the stairs. He was very drunk you see!" The information was gushing out, the man wanted to leave as soon as he could. "I didn't stay long!"

"You had a quick look round the living room though."

"Yes, well Mr Halburt showed me a picture of him and his wife. He wanted to talk to someone. He loved her, but he had had an affair which ruined their marriage. Apparently then she had one too. He was really angry about that. He thought that he was the only one who should have his wife and no one else should!"

"What time?" Sherlock said simply as though the rest of the information was irrelevant ramblings.

"Around 1am. Maybe slightly before?" He looked worried "I had another customer at half one from nearby, but I don't think that helps does it?" He broke the stare and glanced at the floor "I'm not under suspicion am I?"

"No, you may leave now, say nothing, if you do, the consequences are out of my hands."

John smirked as the man practically ran out of the room, though he thought, Sherlock seemed to be enjoying using Government power over people, which was rather unlike him.

Sherlock sighed and after a moment of realisation John looked down in surprise. It wasn't a despairing sigh that he had heard many times, it was deep and sorrowful. John opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a syllable Sherlock jumped to his feet and strode past John to the kitchen asking if he wanted tea and toast. John was nonplussed, why was Sherlock acting so strange? He walked questioningly into the kitchen.

"Sherlock?" John said tentatively and Sherlock turned around holding a plate of toast and a jar of jam. John stared at the jam and his stomach gurgled. Sherlock put them on the table, looked at John muttering "It's for you, Mycroft will be here soon and you need food." He walked past John, picked up his violin, sat in his chair and started to play a simple tune.


	15. The facts for Mycroft

John was just polishing off his fourth slice of toast and jam when Mycroft appeared in the doorway.

"John, I trust you are well."

John nodded "You?" Mycroft smiled in a knowing way and nodded his head slightly.

Sherlock was still playing the violin and seemed unaware of Mycroft's presence, totally entranced by the piece he was playing. John brought out fresh tea and after a couple of minutes Sherlock finished playing.

"You were fl-" began Mycroft before being silenced by a glance from Sherlock. "You always did prefer Dvorak's Concerto in A minor but were always much more suited to Franck's Violin Sonata in A Major." Sherlock's jaw clenched and Mycroft stopped talking, his point made. "I don't have all evening Sherlock, I have an appointment with a Duke at half 8."

Sherlock stared slightly moodily at Mycroft saying nothing. Mycroft sighed and sipped his tea.

"Fine." Sherlock said, "I have your facts." Mycroft smiled demurely and put down his cup of tea carefully before crossing his legs over the opposite way and straightening his trousers out. "I shall put it all out simply." John looked on with slight amusement, he rather enjoyed seeing the brothers together, for a short time, Mycroft in small doses was always preferable, especially as Sherlock's mood suffered, affecting the whole house.

"Your suspects are; Diane, Peter, Jeremy – the handyman, Matthew – the gardener, the taxi driver and James – the chauffeur. Automatically, I ruled out Matthew and the taxi driver. Peter, James and Jeremy all fail to have alibis. Peter was definitely in the house around the time of the death, James is unaccounted for, though doesn't live far from the house and Jeremy had taken the dog for a walk, so he could have been anywhere in the grounds, or house. He had also walked the dog in the middle of the night recently. Jeremy knew Diane well and had a nice place to live with his partner which would all go wrong if something happened to Peter as the house is in his name, Diane was about to cause trouble apparently. She wanted him to move out or at least give her more leeway. Peter is the most obvious; he arrived home drunk, ranted to the taxi driver about his wife and got angry before heading upstairs past his wife's room to bed. He was angry with her for having an affair even though he had had one a few years ago and they were informally separated."

Sherlock was rather bored, he was only really saying it all for John, John hardly knew anything even though he had been there for almost all of it. Sherlock despaired slightly of people and their lack of observation skills. Mycroft probably knew most of it already.

"James loved his job and told us he would do anything to keep his job. Likewise with Jeremy, Diane was going to change this. So, we come to Diane." Sherlock started to clean his violin "She had taken a large amount of pills which would have killed her, except she was stabbed, passionately." Sherlock resisted the urge to sigh in despair about relationships and passion, but his facial expression said it all. "Stabbed with passion. It was the stab wounds which killed her. Right John?"

John jumped slightly in surprise at being brought in to the conversation. "Um, yes. The pills would have only numbed the body slightly so she wouldn't have felt the stabbing very much. The wounds were deep and were made, probably, by a right hand. They went in with a lot of force." John slid back in to the sofa, his contribution over.

"Yes" continued Sherlock "I think it is obvious who did it and we never found a knife."

Mycroft nodded thinking "I suppose you must be right. Thank you."

John looked at the pair. "So, who?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Forgive me for the lengthy spiel so unlike Sherlock, but I can't ask you to guess without most of the facts Sherlock has in front of you.
> 
> Please let me know! This is a big moment! The questions "How much have I mislead you?" and "How much are you just not seeing?" spring to mind. Of course the statement "I probably missed something out because it made it too obvious" is another one at the forefront…


	16. An unexpected answer

Sherlock and Mycroft looked at John in surprise, and then at each other. Sherlock nodded slightly and Mycroft turned to John.

"It was a carefully plotted suicide designed to incriminate her husband."

John stared at the pair, "Suicide?" Mycroft nodded, "And the knife?"

"Jeremy, of course." John felt out of his depth; how had the pair worked it out?

"Think about it, John," Sherlock said, "Who was the person with the weakest alibi? Jeremy; he was walking the dog in the grounds." John continued to stare, confused. "The dog who had begun barking late at night more frequently, according to Matthew." Sherlock was trying to make it obvious, but not patronising; John never reacted well to being told things he should have worked out.

"But, suicide?" John repeated, still not understanding.

"Ah, now, here Sherlock hasn't told you all the facts," Mycroft said, slightly disapprovingly. Sherlock glanced at him and shrugged.

This whole situation felt wrong to John; not only was a case which looked like clear murder actually a suicide, but Mycroft and Sherlock were being more than civil with each other, like business partners, or even bordering friends.

Mycroft looked directly at John, catching him in the Holmes headlights. "Marie had never been able to conceive. When Peter had an affair, the woman fell pregnant. She died during childbirth, but the child survived." John looked surprised, "I know, quite rare these days."

"Mycroft," Sherlock was losing patience.

"Ah, yes, death is your domain, isn't it Sherlock?"

Sherlock glared moodily back. "I think we share that domain, Mycroft." Each brother was using the other's name as though it was priming a gun.

The pair stared at each other in silence before Mycroft turned to John and continued as though he had never been disturbed by Sherlock.

"Neither Peter nor Marie wanted the child in their lives, Marie particularly, so Peter put it up for adoption. Marie, whilst being passionately against the child, could not forgive Peter for abandoning it. So, now she hated him for the affair and abandoning his child. This put enormous strain on her."

"In short," cut in Sherlock, "she decided, in her mentally unstable condition, that the best course of action was death and only death."

"Yes," Mycroft said, seizing control of the conversation again. "She decided that she should take down her husband too, if she could. Hence, why it looked like murder." Mycroft smiled demurely.

"But... she failed." John forced out.

"Yes," said Mycroft sadly, "But at least-"

"She caused her husband a lot of pain by making him lose everything he loved." Sherlock interrupted, clearly completely bored of old facts, conversations involving Mycroft, and emotional causes.

John just stared at the pair, going through the facts. He sunk slowly back into the sofa, just fathoming.

Mycroft turned to Sherlock, "I sent someone to help Claude - you are often so careless."

Sherlock looked at him indignantly, "I should have known that was you. Do you have this place bugged so you can keep an eye on me, dearest brother?"

Mycroft smiled slightly, "Would you like me to?"

"Of course I wouldn't!" he snapped back.

"Well, I best be going. I do have a duke to meet. I may call tomorrow - Lady Caroline has been phoning repeatedly about some trouble. I shall update you." He walked over to the door and hovered on the threshold. "Thank you, pleasant evening." He turned and nodded, "John."

John nodded back, still in a confused daze. It still hardly made sense.

"I assume you have questions," Sherlock muttered, standing moodily by the window, watching Mycroft drive off. "I will answer them in the taxi. Are you ready to leave? You won't need your gun." John stared at him and made a mental note to move it to a more secure location, away from a potential bored Sherlock. Though, why that thought struck him at that moment he wasn't sure.

"Where are we going?"

"To see Claude. Case 4 is soon to be concluded."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Mycroft is telling the whole truth about the flat being bugged?


	17. Crates of Cheese?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to pretend this is my best chapter, because it isn't.

They sat in the taxi in silence, John's mind trying to work out what he didn't understand so he could ask Sherlock to explain. After a while he gave up.

"So, where are we going?"

"To the Ritz to meet Claude. We must conclude Case 4 John. Never a case unsolved."

John nodded.

"So, what is this case? You haven't told me anything."

"Claude deals in cheese. He knows how to get the rarest cheese, he also knows what cheeses are unable to be x-rayed. In effect he smuggles inside cheese."

"Smuggles inside cheese?" John started laughing and Sherlock smiled slightly.

"He is in a little bit of trouble, he needs to take a certain cheese back to France without getting caught by the people who don't want the certain items leaving the UK. He works for some very important people, he is merely in charge of his company and he gets hired. It is rather profitable."

"I can imagine." Sherlock glanced at John.

"Mycroft will not allow us to fail. It is important that no one knows what Claude does or what he is taking. It is of national importance apparently."

John tried not to laugh, the brother's relationship could be rather amusing but Sherlock did not appreciate being laughed at and John was sure neither did Mycroft.

After a couple more minutes of confusion, John found himself around the corner from the Ritz and feeling slightly underdressed.

They walked casually into the Foyer, John noting Sherlock's utmost silence and seemingly paranoia at being watched. John could see his eyes darting around faster than he had seen before. He braced himself, ready for whatever might throw itself in their way.

Sherlock caught hold of a concierge and after a subtle note had been placed into a pocket, Sherlock and John were lead to a small meeting room hidden down a maze of unseen corridors.

"Here you are sirs. Pleasant day." Sherlock nodded at him and knocked on the door five times.

"Your grapes sir." He called out and John looked at him surprised.

There was a rustle from the other side of the door. "What colour?" replied a French voice.

"Red of course."

The door opened, "Sherlock, please do hurry."

They rushed inside and Claude locked the door behind them.

"My apologies for your inconvenience, you have a plan? No?"

"It is all safe?"

"Yes, your colleague saw to that."

Sherlock looked unimpressed. "Yes, Mycroft is good at knowing what is going on. Shall we go?"

Claude looked at him worried. "What is your plan?"

"Tea crates!"

John and Claude stared at him, wondering whether he had lost a screw when he entered the Ritz. Sherlock sighed.

"Don't you see? All the contacts are going to be looking for a cheese crate or box. We disguise it in a tea crate but send the cheese crate via a different route. We don't protect the tea crate and act as though it does not belong to us. I have an alternate address for the label and a contact in the French customs. It will all work, but we must catch the next train!"

"Of course." Muttered Claude.

There was a knock at the door and a young concierge called out. "Sir, there is a Gentleman here that has come to deliver and collect the tea crates. You have just had another call too, sir, I wrote down the message."

"Ah, good lad. One moment please." Claude turned to Sherlock and John. "Quick!"

They brought in the crates and quickly filled them. Claude wrote out the labels and stuck them down. They helped the man load the crates back onto a carrier and gave him a tip.

Claude turned worriedly to Sherlock , "I do trust you are right Sherlock. I does feel slightly, sub-par and obvious."

Sherlock stared at him "I know Claude, I have a couple of decoys taking cheese crates in taxi's and white vans. Mycroft is paying the expense." He grinned slightly.

John stared at the pair. Sherlock was definitely acting stranger than normal, his interaction with Mycroft and the lines he kept dropping. He made a mental note to discuss it with Sherlock, at a later date and when Sherlock was bored and willing to discuss anything that wasn't "TV or life drivel"

"A smooth operation then we hope?" Sherlock nodded at Claude

"Let us know when it arrives safely and now, take this crate into your own personal care, you never know who is watching." Sherlock smiled slightly, there was obviously some history between the boys and they had had dealings before in some form. They shook each others hands warmly and Sherlock and John headed back outside, via a staff back door.

John turned to Sherlock "Wasn't that a bit easy?"

"Yes" muttered Sherlock sounding rather grim. "I think we may only have cause to relax when we hear from Claude."

John nodded. "Right then. What now?"

"Well, Case 1, 2 and 3 have all reached a conclusion. Case 4 is potentially finished. So that leaves us with Case 5."

John froze suddenly very worried.

"Shall we take a walk?"

John was even more worried now, Sherlock suggesting a walk, what did that mean? They never went for just a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are slightly less confused about Claude now…
> 
> What does Sherlock mean? Why would he want a walk? What do you think he is going to talk to John about?


	18. An inconclusive concluding conversation

They caught a taxi to Westminster and crossed over Westminster Bridge by foot. They were both silent. John was nervously waiting for Sherlock to talk and Sherlock was just enjoying watching all the people rush by, mentally checking off the adulterers, the fraudsters, coppers and nannies, amongst many others.

"What do you think I am going to say John?"

John started slightly and looked at his feet.

"I, um, I…. I don't know Sherlock." John smiled slightly, though it was due to nerves and completely defensively.

"In my experience, sitting in a room can invoke more awkwardness and silence in the other person. That is why we are here. Rivers are supposed to be calming." John glanced at Sherlock, had he been reading internet articles again? Sherlock sighed. "I want you to explain what you are thinking."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes.

"Explain what I am thinking?" John said eventually.

"Yes John."

"I think…"

Sherlock resisted the urge to speak, John was different, he couldn't always be sure he was thinking the correct way. He was 90% sure but that wasn't enough besides, getting John to say it out loud was important for his development.

"I haven't…"

Sherlock's brow furrowed slightly, maybe John would have been less awkward in the flat after all.

"I'm not used to…"

They had walked a full square by now and were back by the Houses of Parliament; Sherlock quickly diverted them to walk through St James Park.

"I don't know Sherlock, I just don't know.

They walked on a bit further before John decided to ask Sherlock, "What are you thinking? I mean, you instigated this, you claimed you were married to your work."

"I am." Replied Sherlock instinctively and then pausing to think. He was generally quite aware of his feelings or emotions, lust being a particularly rare one. "I don't think I have sufficient data to answer that."

John smirked but felt quite annoyed. "And you expect me to?"

"Perhaps not, perhaps we should reconvene this conversation at a later date."

"Mm." John replied and both men visibly relaxed.

"I will say though, John." He paused and looked down at John who had stopped and was now looking up at him. "You," and now Sherlock was awkward, "You intrigue me."

"Intrigue?"

"Yes, more than most. I," Sherlock was the closest to flustering his speech John had ever seen, "I like having you around, okay?"

John smiled warmly "I think we've gone beyond that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought over all, it really does mean a lot to me every time I get a review.
> 
> There is another fic that follows "Confusion leads to distraction" which follows the ficlet "The Holmesian Denial".
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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